Last week there was a news story, with video, about a 4 year old boy who was giving a week old golden lab puppy a bath in the toilet and flushed the poor little pup. The mom immediately called the fire department, but they couldn’t help so she called a plumber who came with a plumber’s snake, a fiber optic camera, and a big heart and was able to nudge the puppy toward a manhole where others were waiting to snatch the little thing out of the pipes. All is well, but I’m sure the puppy got another bath immediately.

It started me thinking of all the pets that have survived my children and vice versa, and the pets I had growing up. I finally had to break it up into a variety of parts because the list of experiences just kept growing.

Dogs in my childhood: When I was born my parents had a black lab named “Blackie”. Blackie apparently decided that I was the puppy she never had and was extremely nurturing, protective and maternal toward me. There is photo of her sitting right beside me in a little infant bouncer watching me intently while I’m sound asleep. She would instantly stand between me and anyone else who entered the room. If the doorbell rang she would stand between me and the door wherever I happened to be. How is it possible to feel such warm feelings for a pet for which I have no personal memory?

When I was about 4 we got a beagle puppy – I named it “Flower” because my room had decorations from the Bambi movie and I liked “Flower” the skunk. My Flower turned out not to be as cute as Flower the skunk and I have a vivid memory of him throwing up worms all the time. It was several years before we had any more dogs. But eventually we got Bruno, the St Bernard, who peed on the Christmas tree, chased deer, terrorized horseback riders and could move the kitchen table just by lying underneath and then standing up and walking. But he also pulled our sleds, kept us warm by snuggling with us on the couch in the winter and never ever ran when my little sister would take the leash.

Then, we had a mutt that I think was just a little challenged. We lived in the country and deer would frequently run through our backyard. Cuddles would be lying under the couch, but if deer ran past through the yard, he would fly out from under the couch and slam headlong into the sliding glass doors. The first time it happened we were all stunned and alarmed. After the second, third, fourth times we were more amused than alarmed. When it continued to happen every single time the deer ran we pretty much ignored the behavior. Cuddles also liked to repeatedly touch his nose on the outside edge of the grill after my dad was done grilling. He would walk up, touch his nose to the hot grill until it sizzled – he would yelp, run away, and come back to try it again.

Lessons learned: you don’t have to be human to be a good mother, don’t judge a book by its cover (or a dog by its name), you can move anything (or anyone) with the right kind of leverage (or motivation or incentive), persistence isn’t always a good thing. More pet stories to come….